David Nolan wasn't a man who usually showed fear, but when he and Emma exchanged glances in the lobby of the correctional facility where the state had housed his father, it was clear that the man was nervous. There was an uncertainty to his movements as he signed his name after Emma's and presented his identification as well to a uniformed officer who gave it a cursory glance and buzzed them in with nary another look at them.
"You're up to this, right?" Emma asked, even her whispered tone echoing in the long windowless hallway. It smelled vaguely of a hospital and she wondered briefly if they both used the same cleaning materials.
"He isn't going to get under my skin," David said doggedly. "I won't allow it."
She didn't respond right away, purposefully matching his steps with her own. She fell in line beside him, seeing the vague image of someone waiting for them toward the end of the hallway. "I'll try to make the same promise," she finally responded. "We've got each other's backs right. I defend you. You defend me."
He slowed his steps as he blinked at her. "You're worried?"
"About you? No. About me? Hell yes. This man hates me, David. You can't truly think that this will go well with me in the room. I'm likely to say something and it'll turn ugly." She turned her head slightly to catch his worried expression. She hadn't meant for him to be concerned. "You have bail money, right? Just in case."
His features contorted in pain briefly, then he nodded his way through those thoughts. "You think I would bail you out after I have refused to consider it for my father. My, my Emma, you're thinking highly of yourself today."
Bumping his left bicep with her right shoulder, she rolled her eyes at him. "You can at least buy me lunch this week."
"For what?" David asked in surprise. His eyes narrowing in on her with a marked uptake in confusion.
"Well," Emma said, pretending to consider that for a moment. "Being your best friend that you're not sleeping with?"
He tapped his chin as though seriously considering this title. "I don't know. Robin might disagree."
Her blonde hair flew as she whipped her head in surprise. "You're telling me now that you're sleeping with Robin? Does Regina know? Mary Margaret?" One hand landed on her chest as if she might call for her smelling salts at any moment. He rolled his eyes in response as Emma gauged how close they were to the man waiting to see them. "Okay, fine. Your best female friend you're not sleeping with?"
"Deal," he said with a curt but affirmative nod. "You can't tell Ruby though."
Both were laughing, attempting to mute the echoing sounds as they were ushered into a nondescript conference room with people in dark suits and ties. Emma reminded herself to tell David she was concerned about Men In Black and alien activities upon seeing the emotionless and stoic faces with the same uniformed appearances and mannerisms. Each appeared indistinguishable from the last. Perhaps a little levity would be what he needed after this meeting with his father's attorneys.
Even in a time when he was clearly hurting and confused about his future, David was a gentleman. Before taking the seat indicated by the man standing closest to them, he pulled out a chair for Emma. She did not even snark at the chivalrous gesture.
The first words from the darkly dressed men were formalities, introductions, and explanations that the senior Mr. Nolan was moments from being released. "We didn't expect to hold him this long," the younger of the men said with a nonchalance that made Emma wonder just how long he had been in the field. "It's just a matter of him turning over his passport and other documents. Flight risk and all."
"And all," David muttered to himself and then spoke louder. "I guess my seeing him was never going to happen." The men about the table and on the perimeter of the room shared synchronized looks. It made the one shared by Emma and David pale in comparison.
"He hasn't been too friendly," one of the other men said hesitantly. "We haven't really…"
Emma spoke up, her voice a bit shrill in the hollowness of the room. "That man is his father…you're going to keep him away?"
The younger man finally appeared to show some of his inexperience as he hesitated, studying what appeared to be a fraternity ring on his hand. "We haven't really broached the subject, ma'am." He coughed. "Mr. Nolan…Sheriff Nolan… sort of led us to this arrest. I'm not sure it would be appropriate."
"I was asked to pay his bail," David interrupted. His voice did not sound sure at that point. "So he would take my money, but he won't see me?"
Emma's hand automatically petted at his forearm, a gesture she had picked up from Killian's comforting moves. "Can you at least have them ask him?" she asked quietly. David had come specifically to see his father. He had not said as much, but she knew he wanted to see if there was even the least amount of shame or regret in his eyes.
The young man hesitated again and then made a single nod at the one closest to the door. It seemed like only seconds before he was back and leading Emma and David down to the visiting area. His father was already dressed in suit and tie, lacking the orange jumpsuit of the other prisoners. It was one of the perks of having money.
"Gloating is beneath you, David," the man said as David took his seat at the partitioned table. "Especially when you should be ashamed."
"The only thing I'm ashamed of is not seeing you for the man you are," David said bitterly. "I had hoped…I wanted to talk to you about what you had done. I realize you won't confess to anything. That's the reason for all this." He motioned at the two lawyers behind them who probably represented at least a dozen that had been hired. "What was your first phone call? To a PR firm? Your statement to the media came just an hour after your arrest. Who does that?"
Emma had known her friend would be emotional, his words tumbling out like they stung his own mouth. But she had hoped he would hang on a bit more, not giving his father the satisfaction.
"You gave me no warning of your treachery, nor your lack of loyalty," he responded, just as dully unaffected as he usually sounded. "You stepped out of the race for sheriff. Is that your real punishment for me? TO see you unemployed and worthless?"
David's eyes flashed with some unspoken bit of triumph. "I wish I could have seen your face better when I did that, father. It would have been the icing on the cake."
"Such a waste," Spencer admonished. "Such a disgusting waste of potential. That's what makes me sick about this whole thing. I don't give a damn about the sheriff's job. I wanted you to be more, but you gave this up. You gave up."
"Was it really that important to you?" David asked, the treble of his voice sounding a bit less accusatory. "Why? I want to understand, but I don't. Why was it so important that I be elected to anything?"
While the hard edges of Spencer's demeanor were certainly on display, Emma noticed a softness that had not been there before. The creases of his skin were more pronounced. His hair was thinner and whiter and his eyes seemed deeper set and almost hidden behind the sagging lids. She could not call him grandfatherly, but for a brief moment she imagined he and Ruth looking over a wrapped bundle that David and Mary Margaret had produced. No such moment would exist, she realized. While the babies would certainly come, there would be not grandmother to dote and no grandfather to be a part of the child's life.
"It was who you were meant to be," Spencer answered. "You and your brother were both meant for more than mediocrity. You're a Nolan."
Emma saw it then, the brief moment when David felt that same inferiority that she had felt growing up. He wondered if his father truly loved him at all or if it had been all about the potential. No one, she reasoned, wants to feel like they aren't worthy or they aren't enough. "I'm your son," David said, interrupting her thoughts. "But no matter what I did with my life, you should have been proud. When Mary Margaret and I have a child, I won't let him or her ever feel that they have to live up to some expectation of greatness to earn my love. You may have had my interests in your plans, but you went about it the wrong way. Kidnapping people? Trying to frame innocent people? Ruining people's reputations because you could? That's sick and disturbing."
The elder Nolan blinked dubiously at his son. "I assumed you felt that way when you decided to have me arrested," he stated before turning the steely gaze toward Emma. "I assume you aren't here to just watch, Ms. Swan. Did you have something to say to me too? Did I not buy you a pony? Or did you want more hugs from your foster family? What is it that I did to screw you over that you're here to gloat about now?"
The hairs on the back of David's neck stood as the room seemed to grow colder, Emma's rigid posture becoming even tighter. "I don't know what you mean," she answered sweetly – too sweetly. "I love everyone knowing my business. I only wished that you had thought to have the mug shot printed as a t-shirt." Her pasted on smile lasted a moment longer, never quite reaching her eyes.
"Somehow I doubt you are being honest in your reaction, but lovely thoughts," he said. "Honestly, the two of you act quite surprised that I would want my son to win an election and would be disappointed in his disinterest in that. And, Emma, I realize you don't have a family and wouldn't know what it means to have that unconditional love, but this is not something I take lightly."
Emma's eyes turned downward at the reminder of no family, but she said nothing in return to the man. "So you are confessing to your involvement in the kidnapping of that couple, the framing of Regina and Killian for the mix up with the contract, and of course this crap you pulled with Emma."
Spencer Nolan said nothing more to his son.
***AAA***
Ruby looked up from the pile of printed recipes and cookbooks that her grandmother had insisted that she peruse with a welcome and relieved smile on her face. Her dark hair fell in luxurious waves and the satin like blouse with one button too many open to reveal skin that should have made her feel cold in the brisk November in Maine air.
"You look like you could use a break," Emma said, finding herself caught in the sleeve of her coat. The blonde shimmied a bit to pull herself free from the red wool, repeating the gesture when she felt the temperature of the diner's drafty corner booth. "Jesus, it's freezing in here."
"Granny claims it makes the customers want more coffee and not stay as long over their plates of lukewarm eggs and toast." Ruby might have little interest in her grandmother's business, but she had a mind like a steel trap for remembering the woman's advice and strategies. Stealing a glance at the clock above the counter, she turned her confused expression back to Emma. "Long time no see around here. You're either late for breakfast or early for lunch."
"Brunch?" Emma asked, shrugging her shoulders innocently. "Sorry, I had to meet with the state's attorney about the case."
One corner of Ruby's mouth turned upward as she settled for that answer and showed her disdain for the situation at the same time. "Please tell me they are going to fry that guy," Ruby announced, stretching her long arms over head with her hands both clasped around the highlighter she had been using. "Kidnapping is serious business, plus that crap he pulled with you and your record. Someone has to kick his butt."
"Not quite how the judicial system works," Emma told her friend, tilting her head to read the title on one of the recipes. "Pecan and maple dusted bacon?"
"Trying to jazz up the Thanksgiving at the diner." Ruby's twitched her nose a little to punctuate the sarcasm. Each year Mrs. Lucas hosted a community Thanksgiving dinner that everyone without family was invited to attend. It was the one event that nobody ever wanted to admit that they would think about attending. Each year Granny would buy crates of food to the argument of Ruby who said nobody would come to the event. However, it was every year that people were lined up to get the, turkey, potatoes, pumpkin pie and cranberries. "I thought we could do something different."
"Admitting that your grandmother's event is going to be a success?" Emma teased, lifting another of recipes to skim. "I seem to recall that you usually tell her to cancel it." Emma had been attending the events as long as she could remember, starting with watching the parade with Ruby as they finished the last minute details that Granny trusted them to complete, followed by providing a lunch to the residents of the retirement home, and then culminating in the main dinner at the diner. Afterward Mary Margaret would arrive fresh from dinner at the Nolan's, complaining about the way David's father had treated her and snacking on leftover pie in front of a movie marathon and plans for shopping.
"I thought we might have one less guest this year," Ruby said pointedly, not taking Emma's bait. "Won't you be busy with Killian?" The brunette's tone was mocking as she stared accusingly at the blonde's flushed face.
"We…I…We haven't talked holidays," Emma said, moving the bag her friend had placed the seat opposite of her and trying to slide into the seat.
Ruby shifted her feet that she had propped with crossed ankles in the seat. It was as much of an invitation as she gave to her friend. "I was thinking you might see Henry that day too." It was a fishing attempt for more information, as Ruby clearly felt a bit left out of the conversation about Emma's issue. Mary Margaret knew things as the boy's teacher, but Ruby was not privy to those conversations.
"I don't know about that," Emma answered, a gloved hand breezing through the air between them. "I mean it is too much to think about holidays."
"And that outfit?" Ruby challenged. "You obviously are going to the honors night at the school? Robin already called and ordered dinner for you all. So I know that something is up."
Emma sighed, running her gloved hand over her hair to tame it from the hat she had been wearing. She knew she owed Ruby an explanation, as they had been the best of friends for years. While she found that she shared more in common with Mary Margaret in terms of quiet nature and less outlandish style, Ruby truly understood some of the same feelings that Emma had suffered all of her life. She explained the invitation to Ruby, sharing that she was nervous about the idea and excited at the same time.
"I think you're forgetting something, Emma," Ruby said, capping and uncapping the highlighter in quick succession. "Henry came looking for you. He sought you out. He wants to know you. This isn't you interloping on his life, as you called it. You're a step ahead there."
"I guess," Emma answered hesitantly, resisting the urge to change the subject as she usually did with uncomfortable topics. "I don't know how interested he could be though."
Emma's insecurity earned her a frustrated look and sigh. "Seriously? I usually have these topics about men. You know is he into you or not, but I guess it is the same thing with kids. The kid is putting the effort out there. He freaking ran away to meet you. Don't you know Regina grounded his butt when he got back there? He's emailed and called you almost daily. He wants to hear from you. He wants to know more about you and where he comes from. And you are doubting that?"
Emma's patented looks for when she had no words were her legendary cross between a chagrinned smirk of being caught and the annoyed eye roll of being found out. She gave Ruby such a look and changed the subject back to Thanksgiving. With a few ideas ready to present to Granny, Ruby looked a bit calmer when Emma said she had to go back to work.
"By the way," Ruby said as Emma resituated her knitted hat on her head, the black a stark contrast to her blonde hair. "You look great. Very mom like."
Emma glanced down at the buttoned up blouse in a cream color and wool pencil skirt in black. Her legs were covered in a textured pair of tights and knee high boots. "You think? I could have gone for the mom jeans?"
"Too soon to be pulling out the mom jeans," Ruby declared with a laugh. "I like this. You look like a hot mom."
***AAA***
Emma ran her brush through her hair carefully, staring critically at her reflection in the mirror. Her mouth was turned down in a careful discerning expression. The green eyes met green, running along the angles of her face and softly flowing fabric of her cream colored shirt with the circle pendant she has worn for years shining in the lamplight. Her dark skirt was not something she wore usually, the straightness of the cut pulled over the curve of her hips and accentuated them perfectly.
"Be careful, darling," Killian said, coming up behind her and winding his arms around her waist. "You seem to be not quite so enamored with your reflection as I am."
She gave him a weak imitation of a smile. "I don't know how to dress for one of these things. I'm not really just a spectator, but I'm not really a mom either. I just don't want to make Henry uncomfortable." Her hands rested over his, leaning her back to his chest.
"You look beautiful," he told her, nuzzling into her blonde curls. "I doubt very seriously that Henry will care if you wear this skirt or a potato sack. But I'm most appreciative of it, love." His hips rotated against her backside, indicating his deep appreciation for the ensemble.
"You're biased," she accused laughingly. "It just seems a little odd to wear something to jail this morning, work this afternoon, and now to see my son."
"Quite versatile," he mumbled, running his lips along her neck, his nose pushing through the path to reveal the soft skin he sought. "So beautiful."
Her head lolled against his shoulder though the protests were evident on her lips. "We have to get to the school, Killian."
He gave one last run of his lips along the column of her neck. "Raincheck?"
She sighed. "I have the weekend off," she told him, not removing herself from his embrace. "You?" He hesitated, expelling a bit of breath that caused her skin to pebble in reaction. She giggled at the sensation, but his silence made her crane her neck to look at him. "Is something wrong?"
"Just a touch of work fatigue," he said simply. "I'd love to spend a weekend with you."
She smiled brighter, grinning at his earnest expression. "Easiest invitation I ever handed out." She deposited her own kiss against his cheek. "You make things easier."
***AAA***
The boy's voice was muffled with the intake of fries and bread as he tried to explain to the four adults the new video game that he had been teaching Robin's four year old son to play. "It's simple," Henry announced, a bit of the food spraying out of his mouth from the effort. Killian and Robin both managed to appear amused as Regina wrinkled her nose in disgust and Emma looked shocked at the sheer volume of food that little mouth could hold.
The various bags and boxes of fried and grilled treats from Granny's were strewn over the counter at Regina's kitchen, the mayor biting her tongue about the mess as the group seemed to be having a good time despite the awkwardness. Roland was curled up asleep on a section of the bench seating in the corner, his tiny hand fisted at his mouth as though he might take back up sucking his thumb after he had given it up more than a year before.
"Henry," Regina admonished when the boy reached for another long shoestring potato rather than a napkin. "You have better table manners than this."
Killian ran his hand along the wool of Emma's skirt under the table, squeezing her thigh slightly. She had been a bit quiet when they had first arrived at the auditorium, accepting a hug from Mary Margaret and sharing a wave from Henry as she slipped into one of the back seats. The thin paper program was rolled in her hands as she stole a few glances at the students being ushered backstage as the auditorium seemed to fill up with parents, grandparents, siblings, and family friends. A tiny brunette woman with owl like glasses stared at Emma for a moment, teeth gnawing at her garish pink lips. "Parent?"
Emma startled. "Excuse me?"
"Are you a parent of one of the students?" she asked, holding her clipboard in one hand and raising her glasses with the other for a better inspection. Finding no answer there, she looked back at Emma with a more serious glare.
"I'm..uhhh…," Emma stammered and clutched the rolled paper even harder. "I'm…"
"She's here with me," Mary Margaret answered, sweeping in with her rescue and a wink. The teacher, who was clearly busy with the direction of students and last minute details, reached around the other school official turned bouncer toward her friend. With a hasty gesture, she led them to a closer section. "You're his mom too. Sit here." That was how they ended up in the parents section with both Killian and Emma distinctly uncomfortable around the doting parents.
Emma had sat through the program rapt with attention and smiling broadly as the boy read his poem to a polite amount of applause. She had held Killian's hand, squeezing when she felt the tears prickling in her eyes. "He's very smart," she had whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. "So smart."
"Aye," Killian said just as softly. "He is." Killian's eyes aren't locked on the stage like Emma's, instead watching her reaction and seeing her struggle to look with masked pride. She had told him earlier that she didn't felt she deserved to know her son, didn't think she had that right. But here she was in that small circle of his life.
She still wore that expression that she was trying so hard to hide. There was a bit of awe as she watched Henry and spoke to him, everything measured and planned. That first conversation in her apartment had been spontaneous but now she found herself going through a preplanned script in her mind. She tried to speak to him about things she knew or assumed he liked. There were the obligatory questions about friends and school. But she heard her own voice sounding stilted though Henry didn't seem to mind.
"You like school then?" she asked, ignoring the slightly annoyed expression from Regina who seemed to be judging.
"Yeah," he answered without much thought, twirling a fry through the ketchup. "It's okay."
Killian had been quiet most of the meal except for a few quips with Robin, but thankfully spoke up to ease some of the conversation. "Your poem was great, lad. I can tell that you must like English class quite a bit." He gently nudged Emma's leg with his own. "Have you read anything interesting in there yet?"
That seemed to open a new floodgate of information as the boy talked about some of his favorite books and the ones that had been made into movies. He had some of the same tastes as Emma, which certainly helped keep the conversation going. Robin joined in with a few remembrances of his own favorites and soon they were all sharing notes that turned into discussions of some of their own favorite memories of childhood pranks.
Robin was in the midst of some story that seemed to get even wilder as the words built when Emma's phone chirped incessantly. Shooting the boy an apologetic look, Emma slipped from the table and carried the phone to the house's foyer where she leaned against the wall and answered.
"Emma," the familiar voice said gruffly back to her. Her eyes were shut but she could see him as if he was there in front of her.
"Neal, I'm not really able…"
"The freaking mayor?" he asked, his words sounding raw and rough at the same time. "You gave our child to the mayor?"
"Neal, this isn't the time," she managed to break in, opening her eyes and leaning forward to view the kitchen. None of them were looking at her, seemingly oblivious to this conversation. "We don't have custody or rights to him. It's not a punishment. It's just the way things are right now." Her voice cracked a bit, but the deputy in her jumped to the surface. Eyes darting to the floor to ceiling windows, she blinked into the darkness for any sign of him lurking.
"He's my son, Emma," Neal responded with a growl. "He's my son and you can't keep me from him." She almost thought he had hung up with that. "I would have taken care of him. Of you. You didn't give me that chance."
Her eyes shut again. "You didn't give me a choice," she reminded him. "Neal, don't do this. He's just a little boy. He doesn't need this right now. He is just getting used to…"
The phone clicked in her ear, the silence evident. "Ms. Swan? Is everything okay?" Regina asked, the sound of her heels sharp against the floor. "Henry was asking…" She stopped short.
"Neal was on the phone," Emma said feebly. "He…he knows that you…He knows…"
The dark haired woman rocked backwards, her arms folding over her chest. "You surely didn't think he'd not figure it out. He may appear to be a bum, but he's not stupid. And he's Gold's son. That's not a recipe for stupidity."
"I don't want to bring this into Henry's life right now." It was something she had battled with herself. Henry had still not asked the question about his father. He had not even said anything about why she had made her decision. "I'm sorry," Emma said, the words not feeling entirely appropriate on her tongue in the situation.
The dark eyes of the mayor flashed upward before returning to the floor. "I hope you aren't expecting sympathy from me," she answered, tapping the manicured tips of her fingers against her folded arms. "You can't be surprised that this man you slept with would want to know his son."
"He wasn't around for me to ask at the time," Emma fired back, softening her tone as she continued. "Legally he doesn't have a leg to stand on."
"Legalities aren't quite comforting in this situation. Henry hasn't asked about his father, but you and I both know that will come soon enough. And if he…this Neal…wants to, he's going to find a way to show up here. So now I have to come up with a way to protect my son because…"
"I never thought he would show back up," Emma said. "He isn't really big on commitment."
The mayor scoffed silently. "So you're telling me that we're about to work up my son into an excited state only to have this man disappear again? Because I'm not so sure I can support such a thing, no matter how much this man might want to have a relationship with Henry." She turned her head fast, the shoulder length dark hair splayed in a slow motion fashion that was similar to one seen in a shampoo commercial. It was clearly a chance to look at Henry who was animatedly telling a story to the two men at the table.
"But unless we want to go to court, I'm thinking we're lacking a leg to stand on here."
Emma's weight shifted from one foot to the other. "I never meant…"
Her hand flew up to silence the deputy. "Henry's in the other room and no matter how simple motherhood may appear to you, you would know that little pitchers tend to have big ears. He listens to what we say. So we're going to go back in there with smiles on our faces. You are going to say your goodbyes to him, drag that lovesick fool off with you, and you're going to figure out how we're going to get Neal out of all of our lives."
Thoughts?